


Paris is always a good idea

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first summer filming in France, and Bradley wants to take his friend Colin to Paris for the weekend - not realising that Colin assumes it's a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paris is always a good idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my birthday girls **reveuse2** ♥ and **souzoukyuuketsu** ♥, hoping they don't mind sharing.
> 
> With fervent thanks to **asifidletyou** , **babydracky** and **souzoukyuuketsu** for the weekend in Paris - and to **asifidletyou** for the prompts - that inspired it all. ♥

♦

‘What say we ditch the girls and head to Paris for the weekend?’

Colin looked up at Bradley, already grinning – though his gaze searched Bradley’s face for a moment before he commented, ‘Paris is always an _excellent_ idea.’

‘So, that’s a yes, then?’

‘That’s a yes, Bradley James,’ Colin confirmed very solemnly. He’d sat back, and he seemed relaxed, though his arms were folded across his chest.

‘Cool! Cos I found this bookshop for you, and a place that sells medieval swords for me, and I even found a vegetarian restaurant.’

Colin’s brow lifted. ‘I’m impressed. You’ve been researching.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, and I thought – why not make a weekend of it, and stay over. That is… if you don’t mind sharing a room.’ Bradley was very conscious now of the fact that he’d gone pink. ‘I mean… just to halve the cost of it, you know?’

A very solemn nod. ‘I can share a room with you, Bradley James.’

‘And, uh – Yeah. A vegetarian restaurant! In the middle of Paris!’

‘It’s unheard of.’

‘Yeah, cos, like, I found this other place that you’d think was cool, cos all these intellectual types have eaten there. Like, um… Diderot.’ He pronounced it with the t, of course: _ot_.

Colin gently corrected him. ‘Diderot,’ with a silent t, he should have known that: _oh_. ‘Diderot was a dude.’

‘But their special dish is _Calf’s Head casseroled like it’s 1686_.’

A grimace greeted this, half in distaste and half in humour.

‘And for you they had _penne in the basil_ , but I figured –’

‘A vegetarian restaurant. In Paris.’ Colin was back to grinning again. ‘That’s magic.’

And it was magic. They both needed a lie–in, so they got off to a late start on the Saturday morning, caught the train down, bought baguettes at the Gare du Nord and munched on them while taking the Metro into the city centre.

‘Which first?’ Bradley asked as they emerged into sunlight.

‘Swords,’ Colin replied with a twinkle in his smile.

So Bradley unfolded his Google Maps printout and frowned up at the street signs – none of which featured actual recognisable _words_ – and finally led Colin to Repliqua, where Bradley was permitted to heft though not swing a few examples of their sword collection, which he feared would spoil him for the plastic swords they used on set, but was an awful lot of fun, especially when he was exchanging learned remarks with Colin on weight and balance and the transfer of power.

Then it was back down to the river, to Shakespeare and Company, where Colin’s eyes immediately lit up. ‘I’ve heard about this place,’ he murmured in awe.

‘And now you can say you’ve been here.’

Colin threw him a grateful look, a bit soft around the edges, that went right to Bradley’s gut.

‘Go wild,’ Bradley advised.

And Colin disappeared between the towering shelves with a last grateful glance over his shoulder which wasn’t only soft but warm at the centre, and made Bradley’s insides go alarmingly gooey.

He sighed, though in a contented kind of way, and wandered around for a moment or two, browsing, but not really expecting anything to snag his interest. But he was soon proven wrong about that when he caught sight of a book titled _Fortune’s Foot–Ball, or The Adventures of Mercutio_ , and two magic words were enough to have him picking it up. A novel, he discovered, as he propped his hip against a table stacked with a rigmarole of volumes; he started skimming the pages, and though the language was stilted and old–fashioned he soon found himself drawn in.

When Colin appeared at his side with a chagrined apology, Bradley realised to his surprise that he was already a significant way through the story, and he’d been reading properly, too. ‘What have you found?’ Colin asked.

Bradley showed it to him. ‘I dunno yet about this one, I don’t have him figured out yet – but the original Mercutio? He was a dude.’

‘That he was.’ And Colin said, ‘Let me get it for you.’

‘You don’t have to –’

‘I want to.’

Bradley looked at the volume Colin was already carrying. ‘Well, what did you find?’

Colin showed him. ‘Hardback edition of _Good Omens_. I read my paperback so often it’s fallen apart.’

They each bought the other’s book, and then once they were outside on the pavement exchanged them as presents. And Bradley went pink again when he realised that not only was the shop assistant gazing out the window at them, but she was gazing at them _fondly_ , obviously leaping to conclusions that really were a bit off base – unless the assistant just liked the fact that two blokes could be friends, even such mismatched ones as him and Colin, or perhaps _especially_ such mismatched ones, in which case Bradley could actually empathise with the fondness. Totally.

The trouble was, something kind of similar happened when they rocked up to the hotel to check in. ‘I’ve booked a room,’ Bradley said, after his usual, ‘ _Bonjour!_ Um, sorry, d’you speak English?’

‘Oui, Monsieur. A little, yes.’

‘A _twin_ room,’ Bradley emphasised.

The guy at reception looked them both over, taking them in: the two of them, their lack of luggage except for Colin’s backpack, and Bradley’s hands free except for the book Colin had bought him. ‘There is a double room available, Monsieur, with a king–size bed. I will put you into that.’

‘No! No. I booked a _twin_ room.’ He was beyond pink–cheeked and into lobster–red by now, and he didn’t dare even _glance_ at Colin who was standing just a step behind his right shoulder.

‘Monsieur –’

‘Look!’ Bradley said firmly. ‘This –’ he waved a frantic hand between himself and Colin: ‘this isn’t what it looks like.’ No, that came out completely wrong. ‘It doesn’t even _look_ like that! So, a twin room, please. Like I asked for.’

‘Bradley –’ Colin murmured. ‘Bradley, don’t worry, we’ll –’

‘Monsieur,’ the receptionist cut in smoothly, ‘I have embarrassed you. I apologise most profusely. But I am even more embarrassed, because I have no twin rooms any longer. They are all taken, and I am very sorry to have disappointed you in this way.’

‘Oh,’ said Bradley, turning pale now.

‘I have failed you,’ the receptionist continued, looking utterly tragic.

‘Oh, well –’

‘It’ll be all right, Bradley,’ Colin murmured, grazing his knuckles down the back of Bradley’s hand for the briefest moment. ‘We’ll be fine.’

‘Well. Yes. I suppose so.’

‘No one’s gonna assume anything’s going on. And what does it even matter if they do?’

Which made Bradley flush again.

‘Failed!’ the receptionist murmured to himself dramatically.

‘Well,’ said Bradley stoutly. ‘Nothing worth throwing yourself in the Seine for.’

‘Oui, Monsieur. Merci! I have you on the third floor.’ And a key was promptly held out towards him with a smug smile.

‘Huh,’ said Bradley, realising he’d been totally played. ‘Ham,’ he accused as he took the key, not knowing if the guy would understand. ‘Actor, uh – actor de jambon!’ he cried, as Colin started pushing him towards the stairs with a giggle.

‘Oui, Monsieur! Bonne nuit!’ And the guy winked at him.

‘Jambon and fromage!’ Bradley called back.

‘Is most romantic view from that room, Monsieur!’

Outrageous! The problem being that Colin’s giggle was infectious, so by the time they reached the landing on the first floor, Bradley was laughing right along with him, and they completed the climb panting with mirth, jostling elbows and exchanging bright glances.

But that didn’t last past the door of their room. Cos it _was_ a fuckin’ romantic view, and the bed was _huge_ , he couldn’t escape the _bed_ , even though the room was big, too, the bed loomed there, waiting for them to fall into it, waiting for them to – to –

God…

Bradley cast a pleading look at Colin, who considered him coolly. ‘It’s all right,’ Colin murmured after a moment. He put his backpack down on the desk, and rummaged around in it for a moment; handed over Bradley’s possessions. Briefs, a toothbrush, hairbrush and product, rolled up in a clean t–shirt. ‘It’ll be all right, Bradley. You choose your side.’

He went to put his stuff and the Mercutio book on the bedside table to the left. Turned back to look mutely at Colin. Then he managed, ‘It’s not that I’m –’

Colin had put his new book down on the other side of the bed, and now he slung his backpack over his shoulder again. ‘Let’s just head out, eh?’ he said easily, as if Bradley hadn’t spoken. ‘See a bit more of Paris before dinner.’

Bradley nodded, and followed him out into the hallway again. _Thank you_ , he wanted to say, and maybe he did, cos he thought Colin said again, _It’ll be fine_. Bradley kept his head turned resolutely forward as they strode out together through the foyer past reception – and then they’d escaped. And Colin chuckled, and elbowed him again, and Colin’s chuckling was even more infectious than his giggles, so soon they were laughing, carefree and friendly and at their very best. Bradley was always at his best when Colin was around.

They wandered the streets for a while, totally rubbernecking and just soaking it all in, then ambled around the cathedral, leaned over a bridge watching the Seine flow by – which looked cleaner than the Thames, but still you wouldn’t want to actually _swim_ in it – until at last it was time to head for Le Grenier de Notre–Dame, and watch Colin light up in anticipation as he opened out the menu, hoping for all this proper regional French food that he could actually _eat_ – and there were a fair few options left even once they’d weeded out the tomatoes and the milk–related stuff. ‘God,’ Colin said fervently, ‘it’s so nice to be spoilt for choice…’

Bradley grinned at him. ‘Order one of everything. Go crazy.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Colin, though he sounded delighted.

‘Yeah, I already went crazy. I mean it, though. My treat.’

Colin looked at him, glanced away. Looked back. Then he said, kind of low, ‘Don’t wanna spend the rest of the night feeling too full to do anything.’

Bradley shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter if you don’t eat everything. Just… I want you to enjoy it, is all.’

And Colin said, very quietly, ‘I’m enjoying it.’

‘Good,’ he managed in what he feared was something close to a squeak. Then, after a moment’s pinkness, Bradley cleared his throat, and they agreed that Colin would order the three starters and the three mains he fancied most, and they’d share.

Which they did. And then they had three rounds of coffee and herbal tea while recovering.

Afterwards, they were slow and sated and utterly content – even Bradley – and when Colin got up from his chair he kind of leaned in towards where Bradley stood – Bradley, who automatically stepped back out of the way, but then had to reach out to catch the man before he overbalanced. ‘All right?’ asked Bradley.

‘Never more so,’ Colin swore. Then his smile turned mischievous. ‘I did some research, too.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ They were out on the street again now, and the night was dark and warm and fresh, and there were people milling around, cool and happy people – dudes, most probably – and Bradley was content. Colin looked about, getting his bearings, and then he said, ‘Come on,’ and they wandered slowly back to the river and then along it – downstream, Bradley thought, though what did he really know? Colin was smiling to himself, a little secretive, a little happy.

Then they were strolling up the slight incline of a narrower bridge than most, and Bradley was trying to take in the sight of the cathedral sailing stately up the river, and the city lights, and…

Colin stopped just before the top of the curve, and leaned against the railings – leaned back against them, not hanging over them to watch the boats cruising by or to goggle at Notre Dame, but leaned back, settling in with his feet propped out just a little in front so he wasn’t quite so tall, and he murmured, ‘Come ’ere…’ dragging Bradley closer with a hand circling his wrist, then cupping Bradley’s face in both hands, and drawing him closer still – Bradley stumbled a little, but went with it, trusting him, trusting him – and they were suddenly meeting mouth to mouth, and –

And they were kissing, they were _kissing_ , oh god _Colin_ – his friend, this man he admired and respected and _liked_ and, there was no denying it, this man he’d almost always _loved_ , he’d tried to dismiss it as hero–worship but it wasn’t it was love – this man was kissing him, and Bradley had long ago registered that Colin’s lips were plump and delicious and obviously _made_ for sin, but somehow he’d never thought – he’d never thought to –

 _‘Breathe,_ Bradley,’ Colin murmured, breaking away but only a little, not going far, not far – just tilting his head back enough to look at him, to run a hand up through Bradley’s fringe and back over his hair. ‘Breathe…’

He did as he was told and gulped in a mouthful of air, and immediately felt better for it. He searched Colin’s face, but Colin was happy and amused, and oh so utterly content. ‘Col –’

‘Told you we’d be all right,’ Colin softly chided. ‘Can’t believe the hard time that guy gave you about the bed.’

‘Oh.’ God, did Colin think that Bradley had actually booked a double room, with intent, and – what? Wanted to be secretive about it? ‘Oh, but I –’

‘It’s been a great day otherwise, eh?’ Colin’s smile turned wicked. ‘It’s going to be an even greater night, o’ course.’

‘Oh.’ Bradley looked at that smile, at the knowing glint in Colin’s eyes, at the smug confidence of the man – the man who obviously knew what he was doing, what he wanted to do, what Bradley should do. What Bradley found himself yearning for, much to his own surprise. ‘Yes,’ he found himself saying, just in case that wasn’t already perfectly clear. Bradley had never been with another man before, never even kissed a guy before despite a few near misses, but if he’d ever had any doubts, it seemed they’d been vaporised by that mischievous certainty of Colin’s.

‘Oh man…’ Colin confided, leaning his forehead in against Bradley’s, ‘I am _so_ overdue for a good hard fuck.’ And if fear flashed white within Bradley then, it metamorphosed in the next moment: ‘The way I’ve been feeling, you could fuck me all night, and it probably wouldn’t even be close to enough.’ A glint from those eyes again, before Colin murmured, ‘Could try, though.’

And Bradley moaned a little, and everything seemed to go black for a moment – but then he was back again, and he was kissing Colin – _he_ was kissing _Colin_. And his hands were slipping around that supple waist, and Colin’s arms were enfolding his head and shoulders, and Paris just disappeared for a while, cos all there was was Colin’s mouth and his own, that long lithe body and his own, all pressed close and hot and working together just as they were meant to.

Eventually Paris returned in a vague way as Colin gently disengaged from him. Bradley stood there, the bridge swaying a little underneath him, his hands hanging helpless at his sides, watching as his friend dug down into his own deep jeans pocket… and produced, of all things, a padlock. Then a black Sharpie. Flashed Bradley a grin – commented wryly, ‘I was _also_ glad to see you’ – and then began writing something on the silver body of the padlock.

‘What…?’ Bradley murmured. Then he finally registered why the railings looked kind of weird: padlocks and ribbons were fastened to the wire mesh, hundreds of them, and when he looked closer and managed to focus, he saw that they bore names and dates.

Colin held his padlock out on the palm of his hand, so Bradley could read it:

> BJ + CM  
> June 2008  
> first kiss

‘All right?’

‘Yeah.’ His voice was husky. ‘What – what does it mean?’

Colin shrugged. ‘Just a local custom, you know? Lovers fix a padlock here, and then throw the keys in the Seine so it can never be undone.’

‘You want –’ His mouth was horribly dry. ‘You want us – to never be – undone.’

Another shrug, and Colin not quite meeting his gaze. ‘Early days, innit? Tonight – god, Bradley – I  _really_ wanna get fucked. I am long overdue. Tomorrow… who knows? We’ll see where it takes us, yeah?’ Then a more direct and honest delivery: ‘I wanted to mark the time and place, though. Our first kiss. Cos I figured it would mean somethin’.’

‘It was a _good_ kiss,’ Bradley solemnly agreed.

‘Well, then,’ Colin concluded. Nevertheless, he hesitated a moment – before finally turning around, and fixing the padlock to the wiring just below where he’d leaned against the railing – then tossing the keys over the side, and with a laugh throwing the Sharpie in, too, for good measure.

Bradley stepped forward, and they both gazed down for long moments at the water gliding past, the air cool between them.

It wasn’t long, though, before Colin’s hand slipped warm into his. ‘Come on, then,’ he said huskily. ‘Let’s go make use of that king–size bed you were so clever as to get us.’

‘All right,’ Bradley whispered, a bit lightheaded. But then they turned, and walked away together, shoulder to shoulder, and he felt just _fine_.

He felt fine, he felt fine, and once they were back in the room they were kissing like starving men, clutching at each other bruisingly, and Bradley just went with the flow, though his breathing was all panting hitches, and his cheeks were aflame while the rest of him was pale and faint – but he must have looked desperately in need rather than completely out of his depth, cos Colin simply commented, ‘Been a while for you, too, eh?’ as he started undressing both Bradley and himself on the way over to the bed, let go of Bradley just long enough to strip off the spread and duvet in one great sweeping move – and Bradley managed to heel off his shoes just before they fell across the bed together, their remaining clothes a tangle and shifting in each other’s arms, Colin still undressing him, kissing him, Colin obviously knowing _exactly_ what he was doing, and Bradley trusted that, he trusted this man, gave himself over to him – and when they were lying there naked together, they gathered each other up close, and it was amazing, it was _amazing_ , even feeling Colin’s cock against him against his own was like a thousand volts of electricity sizzling through him, like he was connected directly to the mains, and Bradley was muttering ‘oh god oh god oh god’ and Colin replied ‘I know, _god_ – _I know’_ …

Then he was alone, lying back alone, skin too cool where Colin had been a moment before, and he lifted his head to see Colin rummaging in his backpack again and finally producing with a rather smug look an entire _box_ of condoms… Bradley moaned a little, and Colin winked at him – declared as he crawled back up the bed, ‘I am just _dying_ to have you inside me, Bradley James,’ and Bradley shifted, wanting that, too, but Colin added, ‘Stay where you are. Let me do the work,’ then with a cheeky grin as Colin knelt beside him, Colin’s long cock so hard so hard for him, ‘You can tell me off afterwards for using and abusing you.’

‘All right,’ said Bradley gamely, feeling in that moment that he wanted to be used by this man, oh god he _wanted_ that like he’d never wanted anything else before in his _life_. And Colin was rolling a rubber down onto Bradley, making an appreciative little grunt at the back of his throat as if saying, _this yes **this** awesome thing is **exactly** what I want inside me_ , and then he was – **_god!_** – then Colin was swiping two fingers with lube and reaching down and back between his legs to prep himself, and Bradley watching with great panting breaths, he was gonna hyperventilate any moment **_god_** Colin was so fucking hot, what was a man supposed to _do_ with that…

Another cheeky grin as Colin withdrew his fingers, shifted closer to him, obviously seeing the state Bradley was in but saying, ‘Lemme make sure you’re in the mood…’ as if he even needed to – running a palm down the front of Bradley’s near thigh… ‘Push up when I do this, yeah? Arch up. Feel the tension in your thighs…’

Bradley managed a nod. And then Colin dipped swiftly – took Bradley’s cockhead into his mouth, just the head of it – sucked hard as Bradley cried out in shock something stupid and guttural like _‘ **Arrrgh!** ’_ – and then Colin was lifting, bringing Bradley with him, enticing him up with the promise of pleasure, and Bradley pushed up, he remembered, he arched up off the bed, and he could feel it down the front of his thighs, which only served to focus all the sensation in his cock, god his cock, and Colin was suckling at it, just the head and no more, so it felt as if Bradley was suspended from that point, from that fucking wonderful point of pleasure, and _all_ of him – _all_ of him –  ** _god_**

 _‘ **ARRRGH!** ’_ he was coming, coming, ashamed and helpless and it was **_so fucking incredible_** , pulsing up into his friend’s mouth, it was gold and heat and wonder, and Colin grabbed his hips, held him there suspended while he pulsed up _again_ and _again_ , nothing but pleasure, nothing but pleasure, oh god help him it was amazing…

Until at last too soon it ebbed away, and Colin gently let him settle again, and Bradley blushed with embarrassment: ‘god. sorry.’

Colin watching him fondly, though his smile was a mite quizzical. ‘Don’t be. Sounded good.’

Bradley nodded mutely. It was. ‘Sorry. You wanted –’

‘’S all right.’ Colin was soothingly running his palm down Bradley’s thigh again. Then, after a moment, he quickly and efficiently dealt with the condom, tied it off and tossed it in the bin. ‘Not gonna take much to make me explode, either.’

‘Well –’ Bradley frowned, wondering what he could offer. It wasn’t like he had any experience to draw on, but he’d been assuming he could at least manage to fuck the guy… before he’d gone and put that plan on hold for a while. He snuck a glance down at his softened cock, which was already starting to stir with renewed interest, true, but he knew it would take a while to ramp up properly again.

Meanwhile, poor Colin was reduced to holding Bradley’s near hand in his, shaping his own hands to it, interweaving their fingers. ‘You’ve got beautiful hands, Bradley,’ Colin commented inconsequentially.

‘um. thanks.’

‘Long admired them, I have.’ Colin cast him a speculative look from under his brow. ‘Want you inside me, Bradley James. Doesn’t _have_ to be your cock.’

‘Oh!’ Bradley frowned a little. ‘You want… a finger?’ He could do that. He had a couple of times, with girls who’d asked for it, and that had only been with spit. Colin was already lubed, and he wanted it, and he was obviously experienced, and – Bradley swallowed. He could do that.

‘A finger, yeah…’ Colin murmured. ‘Or two…’ Another speculative look, a bit sharper now. ‘Or your whole damned fist.’

 _‘oh god’_

‘Done that before, James?’

He shook his head mutely. _No._ He suspected it wouldn’t matter any more, what he had and hadn’t done. He suspected they were kind of beyond such considerations. Colin wouldn’t mind now; they were in this together.

‘Well, I can take it, you know. Wouldn’t be a problem. You could start with a finger, and I could talk you through the rest.’

 _‘oh…’_ he moaned in surrender…

Which was how Bradley James found himself propped on a hand and knees over Colin Morgan, with Colin’s heels hooked up on Bradley’s shoulders and his neat little arse lifted up in the air, offering itself wantonly – and Bradley’s fisted right hand deep within the man, fucking him, Colin tight and slick around him, Colin moaning filthy instructions and imprecations in that rich brogue of his, and Bradley was so helplessly turned on all over again, so hard for this man, but all he wanted, all he wanted for himself was to watch while Colin let the pleasure ravish him ravage him –

At first Colin’s arms were flung out to either side as he lay there in abandon, but eventually Colin shifted them, lifted them up heavy with need, ‘come ’ere, my beauty, my man…’ lifted them up to reach for Bradley, to draw him down closer, even as Colin’s legs clumsily shifted, worked their way down, one after the other, from Bradley’s shoulders to wrap loosely around his waist, ‘come ’ere, Bradley…’ and they were kissing, mouthing, holding, and still Bradley was fisting him fucking him, careful as they moved closer to keep the angle right so he didn’t hurt this precious man, _‘oh…’_ Colin groaned, nearing the end, obviously getting near the edge – and Bradley frowned for a moment, glancing down to see if he couldn’t hold himself up with thigh and stomach muscles so he could free his other hand to reach down for Colin… ‘god love you, Bradley James,’ Colin was muttering, ‘oh do me hard now, lover, do me hard’ and Bradley carefully increased the force, the speed, and then ramped them up again when all that spilled from Colin’s lips were moans of pleasure and encouragement – then, ‘oh god love you like I do, my darlin’ man…’

And seed was spurting and splashing between them, and Colin was shuddering, clamping down _hard_ on Bradley’s forearm, and he was spilling little mewling cries, and for a moment Bradley was worried, but when he looked when he really _looked_ at this amazing man he found himself thinking with pride, _I did this, I took Colin Morgan apart, just me, me and him together, we did this_ …

And they lay there afterwards, exhausted but holding each other near for reassurance.

After a while Bradley turned his head a little to watch this man, his friend, both so familiar and so mysterious – beyond anything, so fascinating – and he wondered if this was his life now, if this was what he would be doing now, these acts with this person, for as much of the future as he could foresee.

Eventually Colin turned his head, too, and he caught Bradley’s gaze which even Bradley had to admit had gotten a bit damp–eyed – and they looked at each other peacefully for a while. Until at last Colin couldn’t resist a little smile, and said, ‘That was fuckin’ epic. Can’t believe that was your first time.’

Bradley nodded slowly. ‘It was.’ He added, ‘First time for fisting.’ And then he quietly confessed, ‘First time for everything, actually. With a guy, I mean.’

Colin didn’t react at first. But then, as Bradley’s meaning seeped in, it did after all seem to change everything. ‘Oh…’ Colin breathed, horror dawning on his face. ‘Oh, _Bradley_ …’

‘It’s all right –’

‘It is _not_ all right.’ Colin dragged himself up, spun around so he was sitting cross–legged looking down upon Bradley. Propped his elbows on his knees, and dropped his face into his hands for a long moment. Muttering, ‘Oh god…’

‘Colin –’

‘I just _totally_ threw you in the deep end.’

‘It’s all right –’

‘It _really_ isn’t. God, what must you think of me?’ Colin lifted his head, and gazed imploringly sorrowfully directly at Bradley. ‘I mean, how utterly oblivious was that?! What a great fuckin’ eejit I’ve been!’

‘It’s what I wanted. I didn’t know until – until we – But then once we started, I realised. It’s what I wanted pretty much all along.’

Colin was, if anything, looking even more horror–struck. ‘I thought this was meant to be a date! I thought – I mean, I know you were being discreet, and that’s fine – we _have_ to be discreet. But didn’t you at least want that much?’

‘I didn’t know!’ Bradley kind of wailed. ‘I just didn’t know yet…!’

‘Oh god,’ Colin grumbled to himself in response, ‘and here I am just making it all the worse with my self–indulgent little freak–out.’ Colin clumsily unwound himself, and stretched tall beside Bradley, on his side but carefully not touching him. ‘Um,’ he said diffidently with the most unassuming gesture from a gentle hand, ‘can I –?’

‘Please,’ said Bradley.

And Colin shifted close, and they took each other into their arms, held on close. ‘I’m sorry. What a selfish fuckin’ eejit I’ve been.’

‘No,’ Bradley mumbled. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Oh but it does. It really does.’ Colin paused for a moment before continuing, ‘What I said before – My, uh, declaration when I was –’ He cleared his throat, and turned his head a little towards Bradley’s, though they couldn’t see each other’s faces they were snuggled in so tight. ‘That wasn’t just the spunk talking. I love you, Bradley. I’ve been in love with you since… since a long time before I should have even liked you. And I thought, _at last_  – I thought – Well, I was just so caught up in _my_ wants, _my_ needs, that I didn’t even notice – And now you won’t believe me, you won’t think it’s _love_ , cos all I did was –’

Bradley surged up within the man’s arms, and kissed him, _kissed_ him, and when Colin at last surrendered to his embrace with a tiny whimper, Bradley murmured roughly against his mouth, ‘Didn’t know until we got started, but it’s like that for me, too.’

And then they were clinging onto each other, and kissing, and suddenly Bradley was frantic again, frantic with need – but this time Colin would not be rushed, he took everything slow and careful and stately. And eventually when Bradley thought he might _die_ if he didn’t come soon, Colin knelt up to swipe lube across his own cock – and Bradley whimpered, thinking that he would do even that, he would give himself over, it was a night for first times, and he didn’t even care, if only Colin would let him _come_ – but Colin smiled a bit mysteriously and murmured, ‘Noticed before that you like this,’ which was confusing, but he trusted this man, he trusted his friend, his love – and then Colin was simply lying down over him, matching cock against cock, and Bradley hissed with overwhelming sensation – it made no sense but his cock being touched by Colin’s was like a thousand times more intense than even the feel of Colin’s mouth on it had been let alone his hand – and then gently, gently, Colin was moving over him, thrusting up against him, the lube gliding so there was heat and it was delicious and easy and everything that was astonishingly good, but not quite enough friction, and Bradley found he was keening in need, begging Colin for more for all, but Colin would not be rushed, he moved serenely knowingly over Bradley, making the pleasure last forever forever, and why on earth would Bradley want it to end, but he did he did he needed – ‘oh please… _please_ …’

‘my darlin’… gonna spend all my life making you feel this good… if you’ll let me…’

‘please…’

‘spend my life findin’ ways of makin’ you feel even _better_ than this…’

Bradley whimpered, grasped uselessly at Colin’s hips.

‘and then… then when we’re old and grey and still as much in love as ever…’

‘love’

‘then…’

‘love you,’ said Bradley, close to weeping with the feelings, the need, the truth: ‘love you, Col’

And Colin stilled, and he pressed down looking startled as if he hadn’t meant to, not at all – he pressed down and suddenly Colin was coming – and his cock pulsing rhythmically against Bradley was all he finally needed to tumble over the edge after him.

And they held each other close, and Bradley found that his tears were spilling over, too, which would have been so damned embarrassing except that Colin was pressing kisses to his wet cheeks, making them wetter still, then flicking at them with his tongue, licking up each tear as if it were too precious to let fall. And then they slipped away into sleep, and awoke to kiss fumbling a sweet caress, and then resettled to sleep again until the morning dawned cool and magical around them, and all of Paris stretched outside, circling them and holding them safe.

‘Got another Sharpie?’ Bradley murmured once they’d kissed each other properly awake.

‘Yeah…’ Colin looked at him, quizzical. Happy.

‘Come on,’ and Bradley led him through the cool fresh air back to the bridge, where he found their padlock, and added his own words: under Colin’s _first kiss_ , he wrote _first love_. And they kissed again, in that precious moment not caring about the need for discretion. Love was self–evidently far more important.

On the way back through the foyer of their hotel, Bradley quite deliberately took Colin’s hand in his own – and he looked across at the receptionist, lifted his chin in greeting. ‘Bonjour, Monsieur.’

The man grinned, though with a bit of French worldliness. ‘Très bon, Monsieur. Félicitations!’

And as they climbed back up to their romantic view, their king–size bed, Colin leaned in close against Bradley and murmured, ‘Je t’aime, Monsieur… Fellatio?’

‘You are _wicked_ , Colin Morgan.’

‘You love me being wicked.’

‘That’s true. Don’t ever stop.’

‘I won’t if you won’t.’

And so they never did.

♦


End file.
